Chapter 4
Cody
My alarm goes off at four. Time to hopefully shoot some snow geese.
I told Karissa what this week would look like with my job, that I won’t be home much.
I also told her to help herself to whatever she wants to eat, but the way she nodded didn’t exactly scream confidence. So before I leave, I plan on leaving a note just to remind her again.
As I’m screwing the lid on my to-go cup, I hear footsteps. She’s in a baggy T-shirt, sweatpants, her hair up in a ponytail or knot of some kind, and she’s yawning as she makes her way over.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I tried to be quiet.”
“No, it’s fine. I have to pee anyway.” She laughs.
“Oh. You sleeping good out here?” I ask.
“Yeah. Still tired, but it’s early.”
“Hopefully you can fall back asleep. I won’t be back until after lunch.”
She nods. “Have fun.”
“Yup.” I grab my stuff and head for the door.
“Wait, Cody.”
I glance back. “Hmm?”
“Can you leave your number or something?”
“Oh damn. Yeah. Sorry.” I laugh, setting my stuff down on the counter again. I dig through the kitchen drawer, find a stack of sticky notes, and scribble down my number. I add my mom’s too, the only other I know by heart.
“There you go, miss.”
She smirks. “Thanks. Here’s mine.” She pulls the top page off the stack and jots down her number before handing it over.
“Thanks.” I fold it in half and slide it into my coat pocket, already knowing I want to punch it into my phone the second I get to my truck.
* * *
My boots crunch on the field when I step out of my truck, the cold air hitting me across my face, my coffee steaming up in front of me.
Dad and Jesse are here with the group of hunters already. The dogs impatiently wait in their crates in the bed of my truck. I let them out and they sprint to take a lap before heading toward everyone else.
Jesse sees me first. “You made it. How’s Karissa doing?”
“Better.”
“Good. She gonna stay awhile, or…?”
“I think so. I feel bad she’s on the couch, though.”
Dad jumps in from just a few feet away; I didn’t even think he could hear me. “You’re making a pregnant woman sleep on the couch?”
“She wanted it!” I say in defense, holding up my hands.
“Party foul,” Jesse mutters, shaking his head.
Dad looks like he’s about to slap me upside the head.
“She told me it was better for her pelvis or something. Trust me, I tried.”
“Unless she’s just trying not to make it weird…” Jesse says, eyebrows raised.
“You’re gonna get back there tonight and make her take the bed, got it?” Dad warns, pointing a finger at me like I’m seventeen again.
“Yes, sir…” I mutter, trying not to laugh.
Jesse’s standing behind him, making faces and silently trying to get me to crack, just like we used to when we were kids. Someone would be getting yelled at while the others did everything possible to make it worse. Mason was always the easiest to break. Hands down.
Jesse pats me over the shoulder after Dad walks away. “If she eats anything like Ella did when she was pregnant, might wanna stock up on icing.”
I crack a laugh. “Noted.”
* * *
When I get back to my place, it’s almost four. I spot Karissa at the table, her laptop lighting her face up in front of her. She looks tired; her shoulders are slouched, eyes a little heavy, hair pulled into a partial bun like she gave up halfway through trying.
“Hey,” I say, kicking off my boots and dropping my keys on the counter.
She sits up straighter. “How was hunting? Did you catch anything?”
I huff a short laugh, pulling off my jacket. “You don’t catch; you shoot.”
Her brows lift. “Okay, sorry.” She holds her hands up in surrender.
“The hunting was good, though. Guys are happy,” I add. “How are you?”
She shrugs. “I was gonna make dinner, but I didn’t know—”
“Don’t,” I cut in, walking to the fridge. “I have a whole meal plan I do.”
“Oh.” She watches me, a smirk threatening on the corner of her mouth.
“What? Not what you expected?”
“Not in the slightest.” She chuckles.
I laugh once and start pulling out chicken, broccoli, cheese, and milk, lining all the ingredients up on the counter like I make this every week. I do, in fact, make this every week.
“You like Alfredo?”
“Can’t go wrong.”
“Yeah, see, I knew I liked you.” The words come out without me thinking. It sounded fine in my head.
Her cheeks turn pink and she quickly looks down. I clear my throat and pivot to the stove, grabbing a pan. “This will only take about twenty minutes.”
“Great.”
She stays at the table while I make dinner, telling me about all the apartments she looked at online today. I told her half of them probably won’t still be available if she waits much longer. Then she admitted she’s not even sure she can afford one.
I didn’t really know what to say to that. I know she’s low on cash. She’d have to land a job, fast. I can’t help financially. I’m nowhere near rich…heck, none of us are.
The best we can offer is the guest lodge through the beginning of September. Maybe even find a way to “hire” her this summer to help out around here. We don’t need it. Between Mom and Addison and all of us, we’re good on help. But it might be worth a shot.
I set the steaming-hot plate of chicken Alfredo in front of her with a salad on the side, bacon sprinkled on top of it all.
“I have a question,” she says.
“Ask away.” I sit across from her, pulling my chair in.
“Why’d she leave?”
The question hits the air like a punch. Bold. Heavy. I wasn’t ready for it.
My whole body goes still.
I clear my throat and reach for my hat, pulling it off and dropping it to the floor beside my boots. “Hold on,” I say, bowing my head.
I pray out loud—simple, steady words—over the food in front of us.
But in the quiet of my own mind, I’m asking for something else entirely. The strength to answer her question honestly without giving away more than I’m ready to say.
When I pick my head up, she laughs. “Must be serious.”
“I pray before every meal.”
“You didn’t pray yesterday morning.” She blinks.
I think back. “You’re right. I didn’t.”
“Shameful.” She chuckles.
“You aren’t religious?” I ask.
She shrugs her shoulders, like she hadn’t really thought about it. “Not really. I mean, I believe there’s a God. I know this world didn’t just appear one day.”
“But you don’t practice?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Does it interest you at all?”
“I see what you’re doing.” She smirks.
“What?”
“I asked you about your ex and you changed the subject.” She sits back and tries not to smile too hard.
“I didn’t necessarily mean to. I just think this conversation is more important.”
She looks down at her food and then me.
“My parents used to drag me to church regularly. Throw me in a Sunday school with other kids my age and hope for the best. I understood nothing. Still don’t. I know some basic stories, like Noah and the ark, Adam and Eve, the apple, Jesus healing a bunch of people…but that’s—”
“That’s something.”
“I guess,” she mutters.
“Everyone starts somewhere. Nobody is born just knowing. There’s stuff I don’t know. I learn something new every time I open my Bible. That’s the fun part.”
“Yeah. I couldn’t tell you the last time I read out of a Bible. When I was younger…maybe in youth group?”
Something about that statement makes me feel sick to my stomach. Not because I’m judging her. It’s not that.
It’s just…I don’t know. It’s the way she said it, like an apology. Like somewhere along the way, life got too complicated and she never found her way back.
That’s when I leaned into God the most, though. When things fell apart. When I had nothing else to hold on to.
But that’s me.
Maybe she’s not there yet. Maybe I’m supposed to be the one who helps her find the way back. Even if it’s just by living it, not preaching it.
“Yeah, well, that’s just a part of believing. It’s more about the relationship you have with God than your knowledge of him. Relationship’s more important.”
Karissa just nods and takes a bite of the noodles. I get the sense I might’ve made her uncomfortable, and that wasn’t my intention. My mind starts buzzing, scrambling for something to say. Anything. I just need to recover.
“Anyway.” I clear my throat. “Bree, my ex…she left because of me, actually.”
Karissa swallows and reaches for her drink. Her brown eyes meet mine. “How’s that?”
I glance down. “I don’t know if I want to get into it.”
Not even my family knows what really happened that day. I’ve kept it buried for seven years, and I always planned to keep it that way. It’s messy. Shameful. And if I’m honest, part of me still wishes I could rewind the clock and undo it all.
“Okay,” she says softly, pressing her fork into a piece of broccoli.
But for some reason…this is the first time in seven years I actually want to talk about it.
Everyone thinks Bree just snapped and left. That she was unstable. That I did everything I could.
I let them believe that.
“I said something I shouldn’t have,” I admit, barely louder than a whisper.
Karissa looks up again, eyebrows raised. “Must’ve been pretty bad, then.”
I sigh. “Yeah. I don’t want to talk about it. It was enough to make me swear off relationships for good. I’ve come to terms with it.”
She gives a small nod, ending the conversation there and reaching for her water.